I was encountering wild animals, all right. I just wasn’t sure how it had happened.
Beware of a kiss under the full moon. It will change your life forever. Dr. Meadows’s words echoed in my mind. Not only had that moonlight kiss possibly transformed Brandon, but it had definitely transformed me. I wasn’t adhering to my usual schedule, nor was I centered on studying, homework, and my friends. I wanted to know more about Brandon, where he was, and, most important, if what I saw last night was real.
But I wasn’t getting any answers. Only heartache.
The moon looked full again tonight. Mr. Worthington was right. I jotted this revelation in the back of my notebook and began keeping a log of what I’d just experienced. The full moon. Brandon’s bizarre behavior, his physical change, and how afterward I was riveted by this suddenly tormented soul.
The following two days Brandon wasn’t at school. On the third day, when he didn’t show for English class again, I was really starting to panic. I couldn’t focus on our lesson, and when Mrs. Clark called on me, I was in another world. I really didn’t know what was going on with Brandon or what to think. I hoped he wasn’t sick. Then I feared he might have moved back to Miller’s Glen. What had happened on the hilltop to change his appearance? Why couldn’t he come to school?
I was zoned out on my way to my locker to get my lunch when someone yanked me into the crawl space underneath the main building’s side stairwell.
Brandon was hanging on to me. He appeared frazzled and tired but as handsome as I’d ever seen him.
I could feel my whole body light up just being in his presence.
I wanted to hug him with all my might, but even though we were out of sight of passing students, I was afraid someone might see us.
“I wanted to talk to you about the other night,” he said.
“Me, too. Are you okay? You haven’t been to school for days.”
“I know. I haven’t been feeling well.”
“Are you better now?”
“I think so . . . I’m not really sure. But about the other night. I want to know something.”
“Yes.”
“After we kissed . . . something happened.”
“Yes, I know,” I said sheepishly. “I was there.”
“I’m sorry—” he began. “For anything that happened . . .”
“So it was a joke?” I asked. “I kept hoping it was.”
I was relieved but totally embarrassed for getting so carried away with my paranormal thoughts and overactive imagination. I replayed my interpretations and feelings of the last few days. I started to laugh. I’d wasted so much time jumping to outlandish conclusions. I was so gullible.
“What do you mean?” he asked, almost confused. “You and me? You thought it was a joke?” His expression softened. It was as if I’d just insulted him.
“No. Not us.” I melted inside. Brandon was so handsome standing before me in the secrecy of the stairwell. “I meant after.”
“That’s what I want to talk to you about. There’s something I want to ask you,” he said earnestly. “I got home and didn’t have some items.”
“What do you mean?” I pressed.
“My shirt. My shoes.”
“I know. I have your shirt,” I confessed.
“You do?”
“Yes. I kept it as proof.” I showed him his folded shirt sandwiched in my bag.
“Proof?”
“That our time together wasn’t a dream. I know . . . you must think I’m a dork.”
“No—I think it’s really cool.” He smiled his gorgeous smile. “Speaking of dreams. I had a weird one that night.”
“Yes?”
“When I woke up . . . I had dirt all over me. I just want to know . . . But I’m ashamed to tell you . . . Did we?” he asked in an honest and heartfelt tone.
Brandon wasn’t referring to being a werewolf. He was referring to something else.
“No—” I assured him. “We didn’t do anything like that.”
“Really?” He was more disappointed than relieved.
“You really don’t remember . . . anything?”
“Just us together under the moonlight. And that awesome kiss.”
This time I smiled.
“But then I remember feeling weird. I think I might have had a fever and blacked out. I was hoping you’d tell me the rest.”
I paused. “You really don’t remember?” I repeated.
He shook his head.
“I’m not sure I can tell you the rest.”
“Why not?”
“If I told you what I witnessed, you’d certainly think I was insane and never want to see me again.” Besides, there was still the chance that I’d misinterpreted what I saw. There were no visible signs on Brandon that he was a werewolf. No scratches, no stubble, no wolflike fangs.